(...)

There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: «Stetson!
«You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
«That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
«Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
«Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
«Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men,
«Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!
«You! hypocrite lecteur!— mon semblable,— mon frère!»

T.S. Eliot no final de The Burial of the Dead